How Sherlock Survived the Fall
by Ashtrees
Summary: There is time for one last crazy theory on how Sherlock surivived.


A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you for reading!

**How Sherlock Survived the Fall**

"I know how Sherlock survived the fall!" Anderson shouted. "I know how he did it!"

If he was expecting a positive reaction then he was sorely disappointed. All he got was two stunned stare from Greg and John.

John was the first to break the deafening silence.

"Okay, this is ridiculous. I'm going," he said, standing up and pulling on his coat.

Greg took a step closer to Anderson and muttered, "Look, I know that you've been under a lot of pressure lately, but -"

Anderson dodged around Greg and he turned to John grasping at his hands. John tried to pull away, but Anderson clung on.

"Just give me a chance to explain," Anderson pleaded. "Please!"

"It's not -"

"Look, you want him to be alive, right? Well, I know he is and I know how he survived."

John stared into those slightly mad brown eyes and saw sincerity there, something which made him want to hear what Anderson had to say. He nodded and sat down again.

Anderson rubbed his hands together gleefully. "He used philosophy!"

John was out the door in a shot, but Anderson was not perturbed. He opened up a large map with red crosses stuck all over Europe.

"But, look, we can trace his progress. He's solving problems right across Europe! In Greece - Occam's Disposable Razors. Then The Giant Schrödinger's Cat of Sumatra! And - and - look! Somebody has been throwing slices of jam toast from the tower of Pisa with Socrates! Now, who does that sound like?"

"Just get a holiday. Seriously."

oooooooooooooooooo

_After Sherlock's Return_

It was a Tuesday which meant that the Philosophers were out doing their rounds, knocking on people's doors and pushing leaflets through the letter boxes with titles like: If You Don't Read This Then How Will You Know That You Want Not To Read It?

Most people ignored them which gave Descartes an existential crisis, until he came up with the catchy _Cogito ergo sum_. But, even then the other philosophers weren't that interested and he flouted off in a huff to write some other philosophical works which no one would read or remember him for.

Aristotle and his student Plato had paired up that day; it was always safer that they worked in twos just in case they bumped into a gang of roaming non-philosophers. Non-philosophers were against everything philosophical and wrote papers about how it didn't exist. Some people argued that _that_ was philosophy, which meant that the non-philosophers didn't really exist. This was further backed up by the evidence that no one had actually ever come across a gang of non-philosophers.

Unfortunately, when faced with this evidence the non-existent non-philosophers faded _into_ reality rather than out of it. Once something is non-existent it can't become _even more_ non-existent, so it only makes sense that they should become real rather than non-real. And once they had reached the status of being imaginary the non-philosophers began to question their own existence and became even more solid.

This made Descartes, and no one else, very happy. Until Plato poked him in the eye.

Anyway, I digress. After their rounds Aristotle and Plato went to 221B Baker Street to call on Sherlock Holmes to ask the big question: _how did he survive the Fall?_

"Why are you so interested?" Sherlock yawned.

"Because all men by nature desire to know," replied Aristotle.

"Our souls are the bridge to the World of Ideas and they long to return to that world after death, and yet here you are," added Plato. "Therefore, you did not die that day, but you fooled everyone into thinking that you had. How, I can not think."

Sherlock sat up, smirking.

"It is quite simple really, gentlemen. I am the not the same Sherlock Holmes who jumped off the hospital roof."

"A substitute then?"

"No, no. I mean that he was me and is no longer me. Qualitatively we are similar. We share the same name, have similar appearance and characteristics. But, we are _not _exactly the same. That Sherlock Holmes was younger than me, and had different emotions. He was afraid, I am not. I agree that we occupy the same life, but we are completely different people. He died after jumping off Bart's roof, I did not. So, you see? It was not me who died that day."

Plato stood up and began pacing the room. "Metaphysics!" he spat. "I am a rationalist, young man! And I thought that you were too! Detective indeed! You couldn't deduce your way around a problem using Occam's Razor."

"No, he ran out of them last week."

"It's because of people like you that we waste so much time trying to work out what the sound of one hand clapping is!"

Plato walked to the door, with Aristotle following closely at his heels.

"I will never read the doctor's blog again! Good day to you, you metaphysical bastard!"

Sherlock was left stunned for a minute, before he regained his power of speech and muttered, "If you're such a rationalist then why do you believe that the soul is immortal and imperishable?"


End file.
